I am the Stacker

I stack.

Yep, I’m a stacker. Everything I own is normally in one stack or another, placed neatly and not too high. Corners are placed with corners. All lined up. Clean. It’s almost something that I can’t help but do. I think it’s part of my brain malfunction. The self diagnosed OCD that I have.

For instance, I walk into my bank, see a stack of brochures while standing waiting for the teller to complete the transaction and I just have to make them even. Not just with each other, but with the counter. Same with the cash envelopes, business cards, or any other stack that happens to catch my eye. (I do this other places, but as I go to the bank on a daily basis, it was the first example I could think of.)

So, all around my house, there are these stacks of my stuff, orderly and neat. My bedroom suffers the same treatment. All my books, stacked, biggest on the bottom. Sheets get stacked the same way. My clothes, on the dresser, folded and stacked (at least the ones I didn’t get into the drawers, which is pretty much most of them). The pillows and throw blankets on the bed, biggest to smallest. So, pretty much anything I can stack… done.